


Coffee

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-20
Updated: 2004-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Sam tries to give up coffee but that's not the worst thing that happens to him this week.





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Sam placed his favourite coffee mug carefully on his favourite coaster and sat down at the dining table.  He yawned widely.  He had at least another two hours of work to go before he could contemplate bed.  Resettling his glasses, he picked up his mug, sipping happily -

 

"SAM!"  Josh's exclamation rang out across the room and Sam splurted his coffee in surprise, choking and spluttering, hot coffee spilling over his hand.

"Ow, ow!" Sam stood up, coughing.  He reset his mug and glared at Josh, grasping his hand, "I'm burnt!"

Josh rolled his eyes as he crossed the room to Sam, "Get some cold water on it. C'mon!"  He took Sam into the kitchen and turned on the tap.  Sam put his hand under the cool stream of water, turning wounded eyes towards his partner, 

"You burnt me!"

"You burnt yourself, you klutz!"

"You gave me a fright."

"Well, what the hell were you doing?"

"Working - the reforestation thing. And the speech for the Young Farmers Rally. And the address for the Submissions Committee."  He waggled his hand under the water, "I think it's fine now."

"One more minute.  What I meant was, what were you doing having coffee? I thought we'd agreed - "

"Oh."

"Oh, that's all you can say?"

Sam stared at the running water and swallowed nervously, "Guess I forgot."

"Sam - "

"No. I mean, I really was going to stop."

"I don't believe you."

"That's not fair. I really did forget."

"Then you're worse off than I thought."  Josh reached out and turned off the tap.  "Sam, " he passed over a hand towel, "I wasn't joking about this. I really think it's way too much coffee.  What was today's count?"

Sam shifted restlessly, "Can we not do this again?"

"Well, obviously we DO have to do it again, because you forgot about the last conversation we had about this, when was it, three hours ago?"  Josh's tone had darkened with sarcasm, and Sam felt the bite.

"I have to work, I can't just leave this for tomorrow."

"You can only do so much."  Josh was cross.

"No!" Sam snapped back, "Most days I have to do too much."

"I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't. I'm fine."

"You're not. This is - "

"It's nothing. It's - look, I'll try tomorrow."

"Try now."

"Couldn't you just go to bed?"

"I'm not giving up on you."

"Please could you just try?"

"Sam - "

"I have to work."  He leaned in and kissed Josh chastely on the cheek, effectively dismissing him. "See you later."  Josh huffed and stomped off to the bedroom.  Sam took the dishcloth out and cleaned up the splatters of coffee - his own mugful was lukewarm.  He took it out and made a fresh one, taking his first grateful sip within the safe confines of the kitchen.

He crawled into bed just after one a.m. and Josh sleepily wrapped his arms around him.  But Sam couldn't relax, twitching and wriggling, and Josh rolled away, leaving Sam blinking into the darkness.  He slipped quietly out of bed and padded out to the computer.  It took a moment to load up and he shivered in the cool air.  He grimaced as he typed 'caffeine addiction' into the search engine.  Half an hour later he slipped back into bed again, and wrapped his arms around Josh's sleeping form.  _I'll start in the morning._

*  *  *

He awoke with a sore throat.

"What time did you come to bed?"

"It wasn't too late."

"I swear I remember you scrooching up beside me but when I woke later you weren't there."

"Uh - " Sam looked away, "Maybe you were dreaming."  He swallowed with a grimace.

"Sore throat?"

"Yeah."  He stretched tiredly and began to roll out of bed, but Josh's arm appeared out of nowhere, wrapping itself around his middle and pulling him back.

"Not so fast, dude."

"What?!"

"What're you gonna do today?"

"I thought - well, feel free to jump in here with suggestions, but I figured I might just, oh I don't know, go to work?"  He tried to get away but Josh tightened his grip.

"Hang on, not finished yet."

Sam gasped, "You're crushing me."

"Answer the question."

Sam wriggled, "Josh - not - funny."

"I'm not joking. Coffee, Sam."

"Oh, God!" Sam rolled hard and broke Josh's grasp, leaping from the bed just as Josh grabbed one foot. Sam crashed over the edge of the bed onto the floor.  There was a stunned silence...

"Ow."

"Oh. Sam. Sorry." Josh peered over the edge.  Sam lay sprawled on the rug.  "You hurt?"

Sam sat up, rubbing his shoulder, "You could have broken my arm."

"Oh, c'mon, it was only off the bed, and you still haven't answered the question."

"I'm not answering the damn question, Josh. Just leave it!"  He stood up awkwardly and limped into the bathroom, slamming the door.  Josh rolled over and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.   _And that's just the beginning..._

*  *  *

As soon as Sam arrived at work he headed for the coffee machine.  He stood there, perplexed. He should have organised a satisfying replacement.  He turned on his heel and clattered down to the Mess, returning with a mug of tea.  He sat at his desk, taking a sniff - there was no satisfying aroma. Disappointed before he even began, Sam drank the tea.  It soothed his throat but left him feeling like he'd lost his keys.  He frowned.  That was an odd analogy. But there it was - a sense of loss and irritation. 

Ginger called out a greeting as she opened Communications,

"Coffee, Sam?"

"Uh.  No.  Not today, thanks."  He focused on a piece of paper but knew Ginger was staring at him.  He slowly looked up at her - she was standing in the doorway, her mouth open. 

"Did you say 'not today'?"

"Yes. Is that a problem for you?" The disappointment in the tea was beginning to get on his nerves already.

"Um, no."  Ginger backed off, frowning.  Sam looked at his piece of paper and picked up a pen.  Ten minutes later he wondered what he was reading and stood up, frustrated, pacing the office like a panther.

At Staff meeting everyone seemed to have found themselves a coffee and Sam leaned against the back bookcase, arms folded, distancing himself.  Josh looked over several times and gave what Sam assumed to be encouraging grins.  Sam was sorely tempted to fling the bird but opted for decorum and a slight twitch of one eyebrow.  His throat was sore again and he swallowed with increasing difficulty as the meeting progressed.

On the way back to the Bullpen, Toby slowed him, one hand on his arm,

"What's up with you?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"My throat, it's sore, that's all."

"Why'd you stand at the back?"

Sam shrugged.

"You coming down with something?"

"Hope not." 

Toby paused at the coffee machine, "Want one?"

"No, ah," Sam swallowed around the growth that had taken up residence in his throat, "No, I'm good."  He drifted away, leaving Toby slightly stunned.

The headache began mid-morning - a fierce ache between his eyebrows, and he peeled off his glasses to massage his face.  Toby frowned at him.  The nasal voice on speakerphone droned on, "...and you must see the need for better feedback procedures before the fertilisers are welcomed on a federal level..." 

Toby rolled his eyes at the telephone, "It's not our job to monitor that - the Farm Collective needs to find a way to ensure management  _are_ getting the feedback and taking notice.  Sam here has the papers organised to help you, right, Sam?"  He glanced back at his Deputy, who was hunched in the chair beside the desk, his hand across his forehead, eyes closed.  Toby kicked out and connected with Sam's ankle,

"Ow!" His eyes flew open.

"You have the papers, Sam?"

"Oh, yes," Sam scrabbled for his glasses, couldn't find them, peered at the papers in front of him, and cleared his throat, "Ted, they're all here, they - here - they - " he squinted miserably at the pages, "how about I fax them to you right now, you can call me back with any questions. The main thing is to get the accordance agreement worded exactly as you want it, and I've included a sample you - you - " he cleared his throat as his voice cracked, "you might like. How - a-a-achoo - excuse me, how does that sound?"

"Sounds like you're coming down with a cold, Sam!"  There was laughter at the other end of the phone, and Toby's eyes once again circulated his sockets.  The farming men rang off and Sam sat very still, staring at the floor.   Toby was clearly sitting still, too, because there was an awkward stillness in the room.  After a minute Sam peeked at his Boss, who was staring back at him.  Toby sighed then leaned forward and lifted a piece of paper to reveal Sam's glasses.

"Oh."

"Why'd you take these off in the middle of a telephone conference where I need you to read things?"

"I don't always need them."

"You did just then."

Sam rubbed a vicious hand across his forehead.  The headache was spreading, tightening between his temples like some invisible medieval torture device. "I have a headache."

"Well," Toby leaned forward in a menacing way and Sam braced himself for what was about to follow, "TAKE AN ASPIRIN!" yelled Toby. "Don't sit here fumbling and fading. And take some FREAKING VITAMIN C before you get another damn cold. And GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE because I don't want your damn cold either!" 

Eyes wide, Sam retrieved his glasses and papers, and retreated to his own office.  Bonnie trailed him with a small wad of messages. He sighed as she handed them over, and she felt a tweak of sympathy - no-one liked to be on the receiving end of Toby's yelling.  And Sam looked a little ragged around the edges as he handed her the farming work to be faxed.  "Can I get you a coffee?"

"NO!" He immediately winced and sank into his chair.  "I'm sorry.  I meant, I mean," he smiled at her unconvincingly, "No, thanks, I'm fine. Well, some water maybe?"

As Bonnie returned he sneezed.

"Not another cold?"

"I'm fighting it."  But he was pale and red-eyed and Bonnie didn't think Sam looked capable of putting up much of a fight right now. 

"Better stay out of Toby's way then."

"Yeah." A rueful grin. "Got any Advil? I've run out again."

"Sure."

*  *  *

Ten minutes before noon and Sam was fading.  He'd been up for seven hours with no coffee, and he was starting to flag, yawning almost constantly, his eyes watering.  The Welsh professor was the first to concede irritation,

"We're boring you, Mr Seaborn?"

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm just - I'm sorry.  Please go on."

The Danish member of the European Forum continued her presentation but Sam was unable to stop the huge yawns, his eyes drooping, and an elderly Belgian laid a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder, looking around the table,

"Could we take a five minute break?  I need to have a word with young Mr Seaborn."  The group sat back and chatted, as Michel Lagae led Sam into the corridor.  Sam leaned against the wall, and Michel took a moment to look carefully at the young man, taking in his pale face and red eyes.  "What is the matter, Sam?  I have never seen you like this, crank - is that the word?"

"Cranky." Sam stared at his toes.

"Oui, cranky. And so tired."  The Belgian patted Sam on the shoulder, then tapped his cheek softly, so that Sam lifted his head and looked at him, "What is wrong? You are not well?"

"I'm getting a cold, but - "

The kindly, pale blue eyes were watching him closely, "But?"

"That's not really the problem, I well, my friend has been hassling me. I - " he sighed and looked down again, "I've been drinking way too much coffee."

"So this has upset you?"

"No! No, of course not. I just thought I'd try to give coffee a miss - go without - but this is my first morning and I'm - " he looked up and met sympathetic eyes, "I'm not doing so well."

Lagae threw back his head and laughed heartily, "Oh, Sam, you are in a room full of Europeans, coffee drinkers all.  Why did you not tell us?"

"How could I? It'd sound so stupid."

Michel sobered, "A caffeine addiction is not a funny thing, Sam.  But I believe that stopping with suddenness would not be a wise choice. What do you call that?"

"Cold turkey."

"Ah, oui, cold turkey. Not a wise choice."  Sam turned away slightly and sneezed twice. 

"And you are becoming sick."  He flung an arm around Sam's shoulders, "Come back and have a coffee with us."

"I - all right," Sam caved, his sore throat aching for a hot drink.  Lagae rattled off a few sentences in French to the group and a cup of coffee was pressed into Sam's hands.  He sat down and inhaled deeply, sighing with contentment, and the entire group burst into bubbly laughter.

*  *  *

"That's your fifth yawn in two minutes." CJ passed him another two tissues.

"You're timing me?" He wiped his streaming eyes, then blew his nose, wadding the tissues before dropping them onto the pile in the wire wastebasket.

"Well, we're twiddling our thumbs here, and I have a good sense of time."

"Which is more than I can say for Josh," groused Leo, "Where the hell is -" The phone rang, "Yeah, put him on... Josh? Where are you? ....What sort of an accident?" Everyone leaned forward, glancing at Sam, then staring at Leo.  "Your CAR had an accident?"

" _My_  car," whispered Sam.

"Josh, you hurt?"  Both CJ and Toby put a hand on Sam at the same time.  "You weren't in the car? ....Oh, you were in the car but not driving? What the hell?  ...Hang on, I'm putting you on speakerphone - there's no way I'm recounting this."

"Ah, hi guys. Sam, I'm sorry about the car, but it wasn't my fault, just got in, hadn’t even put my seatbelt on and this old lady lost control of her car  - we were in the car park - and she just let fly, lost control. I was the second car she hit."

Sam sneezed a couple of times.

"Was that Sam? Sam, sorry, it's not too bad, I bumped my head on the steering wheel but I'm fine.  The guy here thinks the car's okay to drive back ...oh, you'd better start without me, I guess, I'll be an hour in this traffic now."

Leo was staring at Sam's pale face, "Don't fret, Josh, we'll do it tomorrow." He switched off the phone.  CJ still had her hand on Sam's back and she could feel a slight tremor running through him.  She caught Toby's eye,

"How about we go get something to eat?" Her eyes said,  _Get Sam out of here_.  Leo saw it too. 

"Good idea.  I'll talk to you later."  He buried his nose in some paperwork, discreetly leaving the others to remove Sam.  CJ pushed a little against Sam's back, because he seemed to be frozen to the spot,

"Let's go, Spanky."

The three rose carefully and slipped out of Leo's office, Toby walking as close to Sam as he could without actually touching him.  Sam pulled up after a few steps and then blew his nose.  The others waited and he glanced from one to the other,

"I'm fine, guys.  It's just this cold - it's getting worse.  I'll just wait for Josh to get back." He swallowed with difficulty, his whole face scrunching up, "I'm not hungry."

CJ tucked an arm in his, "C'mon, you can have a hot toddy or something while we eat."

Toby frowned mischievously, "Hot toddy?  I fell asleep back there and woke up in Brideshead Revisited?"

"Shut up, Toby."

"You know Waugh, CJ?"

"Which war - First, Second, Korean, Viet Nam?"

Toby rolled his eyes, "You know any English literature?"

"Don't be ridiculous." CJ eased Sam ahead of her out of the door.

"But you don't know Evelyn Waugh?"

"Clearly wasn't required reading in the W's in English 101."

"Ah, the relationships, the spirit, the angst..."

"Who are you, Toby?"

"I am the master of the written word."

"Master of BS maybe," muttered CJ into her scarf.

*  *  *

It started up again in the café,

"You're not familiar with Wodehouse then?"

"No. Did he live in a wood house?"

"Ha ha. That tone's so dry it could scare a desert.  You really don't know him?"

"He wasn't on the list."

"Ah," Toby sighed, "the dry wit, the playful banter..."

"I don't know you, Toby."

"You never heard of Jeeves?"

"He was the butler," croaked Sam, seemingly full of cold now.  CJ turned fiery eyes on the younger man,

"Please tell me you didn't read Wodehouse."

Sam smirked a tiny smirk and stared into his drink, "Uh, no?"  Toby pushed his plate away, grinning. He sat back, satisfied on several levels.

"Argh!" CJ banged the heel of her hand against her forehead. "Somebody save me from these people."

It was just as they reached the foyer of the West Wing,

"See you guys later." CJ paused, "Oh, and Toby -"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think Sam could've made a good Charles?"

"Charles?"

"Ryder, you blockhead!"  And she swept off down the corridor, leaving Toby seething.

Sam chortled snuffily, "She got you!"

*  *  *

Josh was back, not even a bruise to show for his adventure, but he did have a headache, and Leo dismissed him, Toby piling Sam with some work to do so he could take Josh home and keep an eye on him. 

Sam coughed in the cool night air and Josh frowned, "You got worse.  Sounds like I should be keeping an eye on you."  They climbed into Josh's old car, Sam electing to drive.

"I'm fine." Sam shrugged Josh's hand off.

"Ooh, tetchy! You're not mad about the car, are you? It wasn't my fault."

"No, I'm not." Sam sneezed.

"What then?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. FINE!" He sneezed again.

"Oh, yeah, absolutely fine."

"Do you ALWAYS HAVE to have the LAST WORD?"  Sam coughed harshly. Josh raised his eyebrows but that hurt his head.

"Hey, how about you just stop shouting. I do have a headache, you know."

Sam pursed his lips together but had to open them again because his nose was blocked.  He drove on in silence.  He couldn't bring himself to tell Josh that his nerves were screaming for coffee, that his own head was throbbing painfully. He wondered if he should just tackle the coffee problem after this cold was over.

Josh watched Sam surreptitiously.  He could see Sam's cold had worsened but suspected there was more to the irritation than that.  He decided to go fishing,

"How did the European Forum thing go?"

"Good."

"They set up their systems?"

"All in place."

"Sam, I'm trying to draw you out here."

"Well, don’t bother.  I'm not in the mood."

 _Again._  Josh gazed out the window into the darkness, his mind racing despite his sore head, and suddenly it dawned on him.

"Sam-"

"What?"

"Nothing."  Josh decided to wait until they were home.

*  *  *

Sam massaged his temples.

Wiggled his jaw.

Ran a hand through his hair.

Coughed.

Dropped his glasses onto the table and stood up, moving over to the window.

Stared out into the dark.

Shifted from foot to foot.

Blew his nose.

Coughed.

Sat back down.

Moved some papers around.

Leaned down and took off his shoes, wriggling his toes.

Coughed again.

Shifted in his seat, moving in closer to the table.

Pushed back his chair.

Got up and took his used tissues to the bin in the corner.

Washed his hands in the kitchen.

Drank a glass of water.

Coughed and spluttered for a moment.

Went back to the table and stood there, holding the back of his chair.

Shifted from foot to foot again.

Josh lay on the couch and stared at Sam.  His head didn't hurt anymore but Sam was irritating him and amusing him at the same time.  This was one of the Sam-times that reminded Josh there were so many people who would be easier to live with.  Sam could be intense and restless and it only made Josh edgy.  He'd usually sense a Sam-time and send his beloved partner out for a long run, and he'd return a while later, steamy and sweaty and satiated, and then there'd be some peace to be had.  But it was late and dark, and Sam had a cold, and Josh knew why he was restless and it wasn't something a run was going to cure.  If this was work, Josh would happily turn his back, but this was home and Sam and he knew he needed to get involved if he didn't want his own blood pressure to go through the roof.

He sat up.  Sam was back at the window, rubbing furiously at his own forehead.  Josh stood up and crossed the room, standing right behind him.  Sam looked at him in the reflection in the window and smiled slightly.  Josh rested his chin on Sam's shoulder and snaked his arms in around Sam's middle, anchoring him to the spot.

"Hey, Sam."

"Josh."  Sam began to turn but Josh held him against his body,

"How's the work going?"

"Done most of it, just the Projections thing, but it can wait."  There was a pause and the two men enjoyed the closeness of one another's bodies. Josh decided to just be direct,

"It's gonna be hard for a couple of days."

"What?"  Sam wriggled and Josh tightened his hold, pressing into Sam's stomach with linked hands,

"Why do I have to hold you down to talk about this?"

"Why do you have to talk about it?"  Sam continued to wriggle and Josh knew he would lose if he didn't act fast.

"Will you come and sit on the couch for a minute? I really, really need to talk to you."

"I - " Sam relaxed a little against Josh, leaning into him.  Josh unlinked his fingers, and ran his hands soothingly back and forth across Sam's stomach, feeling the firmness of his flesh, the warmth of Sam's core. He smoothed his hands up and down Sam's ribs, settling again on his stomach, so often the centre of Sam's tension and the most treacherous. Sam sighed contentedly, softening under Josh's ministrations as Josh maintained a rhythm to his impromptu massage.  Finally, he gently turned Sam around and tugged him over to the couch.

"Time to talk."

*  *  *

A small coffee had soothed Sam's nerves and allowed him to relax, and they had talked.

In a deep sleep three hours later, Sam gradually became aware of a heavy weight pressing on his chest.  He struggled against it, "Josh," he coughed and gasped, "get off!"  He rolled and rocked his body but he couldn't budge the pressure.  "Josh!" he groaned, "Get ooo-ooff!"  Josh woke up.  He wasn't anywhere near Sam and figured he was having a nightmare, but as Sam coughed again, Josh heard a different sound, that awful wheeze he'd had in New Hampshire.  He turned on the lamp and squeezed Sam's shoulder.  Desperate blue eyes burst open and Josh tried to smile reassuringly,

"Hi. You awake now?"

Sam sat up, "You were lying on me-" he broke into a long cough.

"I wasn't.  You were dreaming. Listen to yourself - I think you have that asthma back again."

Sam focused on his own breathing then turned panicky eyes towards Josh,  "I can't remember what to do." He coughed again, "No, wait, I have the stuff."

"Where is it?"

"Top drawer of my desk."

Josh flew into the study and retrieved a zip-lock bag containing two inhalers. He rattled the bag as he came back, "D'you know what to do? There's no instructions."

"Oh God!  I wanted to study them." Sam stared at Josh, his eyes huge. "They're at work."

"Damn. Can you do it?"

"Honestly, I have no idea."  He coughed again, the wheeze sounding louder. They looked at one another in alarm.

"This is ridiculous. I'll get the phone book - we'll call the After Hours clinic."  He was halfway to the study when Sam appeared in the bedroom doorway, spluttering with the effort,

"Magnet - on the fridge - has the number."  Josh punched the air and ran for the kitchen.  Sam sank down against the wall in the hall, pressing his hands against his ribs, as if he could push the air out manually.  Josh came back and fetched the bag of medication and the phone, then sat down beside Sam.

"You really don't know what to do?"

Sam looked embarrassed, "I was meant to make an appointment with someone."

"Right, well, here goes." Josh dialled the Clinic and asked to speak to a nurse. He explained the situation, and he was sure he could hear her smiling,

"Right, now, pick up the blue inhaler. Take the dark lid off and shake the inhaler firmly. Now it's Sam, isn't it? Yes, let me speak to him for a moment, I want to hear how wheezy he sounds ... Sam, this may be something you never get asked again but could you please breathe into the phone for me? I need to hear you." Sam breathed haltingly and coughed and wheezed without even trying. "Okay, Sam, that definitely sounds like asthma.  Josh has the inhaler. I want you to place it in your mouth, tip your head back a little, inhale as you depress the canister at the top, and hold your breath for as long as possible, all right? Try to count to ten.  Then we'll see how that works. Give the phone back to Josh."  Sam handed the phone back and took the inhaler. As Josh spoke to the nurse again, Sam took a dose of the inhaler, holding his breath for a count of seven before coughing painfully. 

"He's taken it."

"Good. Now you just have to wait a few minutes to see if it's working. Would you like to stay on the line? I'll just talk to another patient then I'll come back on, all right? And if anything goes wrong, call an ambulance, got that? Don't wait for me if it looks serious."

"Sure. And thanks."  Josh dropped the phone into his lap and turned to watch his partner. Sam had his eyes closed and Josh reached out and took both of his hands. Sam gripped him tightly, his fingers steely in their nervousness. Within a couple of minutes he began to sound a little quieter, the wheezing diminishing and colour returning to his face. Josh lightly squeezed Sam's hands in reply, "How're you doing?" 

The blue eyes opened and blinked, "Wow. That was scary."  He coughed - there was still a wheeze there but it was much lighter.  Josh picked up the telephone, and the nurse was right there,

"We're having a quiet night. How's he doing?"

"Much better. It works fast, doesn't it?" 

"It does, but it doesn't mean he's out of the woods. He needs to see his own doctor in the morning. You can't ignore this, and there's probably a reason why it began.  Is Sam unwell in any other way, been anywhere different?"

"He has a cold."

"That can be enough sometimes."

"Hell! Well, thanks so much for your help. We really appreciate it."

"Look after that Sam for me.  I'm glad he's feeling a little better."

They had a huge drink of water then crawled back into bed, Sam shaky and light-headed after the medication.  Josh took him into a close embrace, and they slept that way, close, both a little scared.

*  *  *

Sam lay still in the early morning, watching the dark shadows dissipate ever so slightly on the opposite wall. He loved the feel of pre-dawn, the waiting of the world to get started on another day. He loved the heaviness of the last darkness, intense, lit only by car lights sweeping swiftly down the wet roads, their tyres hissing in the surface water. The rain had stopped and Sam could sense the chill of frost - the end of his nose was cold.  He sighed, feeling the latent tightness in his chest, the still-present tweak of fear that had clutched him in the middle of the night. 

Josh woke to find Sam lying on his side, staring at him.  Josh blinked a few times, smiling at the intense blue eyes,

"Morning."

Sam didn't answer, his lips twitching in a small smile, but his eyes were serious.

"You get some sleep?"

He shrugged slightly, a small nod.  Josh could see he was tense, "You nervous?"

Sam nodded again.

"Wanna stay home?"

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I think I'd rather just get on with the day." His soft voice was husky with cold.

"You have to make a doctor's appointment."

"Why?"

"The nurse said so, last night."

"Oh. And thanks, Josh. For helping. I - I was scared."

"Me too. You sure you're okay to get up?"

"Wouldn't know what else to do."

The telephone rang and Sam rolled over to answer,  "Sam Seaborn."

"You sound like crap, Sam.  Get Josh, will ya?"  Sam left Josh to Leo and headed for the bathroom.  He peered at himself in the mirror - he looked the same as he did the day before - well, his eyes were redder, his face more pale.  His body looked the same, untouched externally by the battle for breath going on within.  Sam ran a hand over his ribs - last night's attack had been so beyond his control. He began to cough as the steam billowed around him and he switched on the fan before slipping into the shower. 

Josh took his place ten minutes later, shouting at Sam over the sound of running water, "I have to be at the airport in under an hour, there's a direct flight and Leo's already booked me a seat.  I can meet with them and get a flight back early in the evening, hopefully."

*  *  * 

Toby called out to Sam as he crossed the Bullpen,  "Josh get away?"

"Yeah.  The traffic's nuts already though, out there."  Sam leaned tiredly on the door-frame. 

"Your voice sounds bad."

"I noticed."

"You look like hell too.  What happened - is it your cold?"

"I'll be fine."  Sam coughed.  "What's on today?"

"Funny you should ask. There's been that trouble brewing out at Ludlam Public School over that asbestos scare. I talked to Leo, we might need you to go over there - it's the fifth school but the first one in our district, and it might be valuable if we can show some faith in the School Board to find solutions."

"What time?"

"Two, I think. I'll let you know.  Have you finished the work from last night?"

Sam coughed again, trying to ignore the tightness back around his chest, "Everything except the Projections.  I'll get onto that if you like."

"Yeah, good."

*  *  *

Sam hovered by Bonnie's desk, "Can you make me a doctor's appointment?"

"Sure. When for?"

"Late this afternoon, around four or something, maybe."

"What's your doctor's name?"  There was a silence and Bonnie looked up, "Sam?" 

His eyes flickered nervously around the room and he coughed,  "Ah, don't  _you_ know?"

"Is this a game, Sam?  Because I'd rather you told me. You must've made your own appointments before."

"See, thing is, I just can't remember. Last time I saw Mrs Bartlet, and the hospital doctors - "

"In more that one State, too."

He blushed, "Yeah." 

Bonnie stared closely at him, "Sam, did you get any sleep last night?"

"Not much, no."  He looked so miserable, and sounded so unwell, that Bonnie took pity on him,

"Let me help you."  She took him by the arm and steered him back into his office. "Sit down."  She reached across the desk and flicked through his Rolodex - nothing under D but there under G was a heading for General Practitioner, and Sam's neat handwriting listed a nearby medical centre and a doctor, Nicholas Brown.  Bonnie grinned and shoved it under his nose, and he slumped back in the chair, groaning dramatically, hands over his face. Bonnie picked up the phone and secured him an appointment, stopping to ask, "What 's it for?"

Sam peeked over his fingertips, and whispered, "I had an asthma attack in the night."

"Did you?" Bonnie's eyes widened.

"Shhh! Just make the damn appointment, please."

Bonnie finished the call and turned on Sam, "Why didn't you stay home?"

"It wasn't a bad one, and I didn't want to stay in bed."

"Has it happened before?"

"Not like that, no. It was a little scary. But we coped."

"You'd better take it easy then."

"Yeah, that's likely."

*  *  *

Nearly one p.m. and Sam and CJ billowed through the Bullpen in their overcoats, descending on Toby's office like crows in the corn.  He sat back, reading their expressions,

"You stopped it."

CJ reclined gracefully on the couch and patted the cushion beside her, "Sit down, Spanky."  He sat down hunched beside her, coughing and shivering, hands buried deep in overcoat pockets.  CJ looked at Toby, "You're right," she crowed triumphantly, "We have stopped it! And after months of fruitless negotiations, Spanky here was the star performer, even with his husky voice and wheezing cough."

"Hey!" Sam croaked, shrinking even deeper into his coat.  CJ put a hand on the back of his neck,

"Good heavens, Sam, you really are freezing.  We weren't out that long."

"L - long enough."

Toby walked to the door, "Ginger, could you get Sam a coffee?"

CJ frowned, "You do this often?"

"Worst time was inauguration - nearly took him to the ER, he was shaking so badly."

"I'd forgotten."

Ginger came in with a steaming mug of coffee, "Sam's cold again?"

"Yeah." Toby took the mug and sat on Sam's other side.  "So, Claudia Jean, tell me how you two managed to forestall the Christian Congregation, the biggest threat to political security this season." He blew on the drink and waited for Sam's hands to appear, steadying them around the cup before watching Sam take a shaky sip, sighing with relief.  CJ stared, fascinated,

"How does he get so cold?"

"Who knows? But he'll be fine soon - keep talking." 

CJ shook herself out of her reverie, "Anyway, we got there and their publicity guy was a deacon or something and he kept referring to a diploma he had gotten in PR from a Christian college, I mean, he mentioned it at least seven times. Sam was so polite, he listed and relisted and reiterated and repeated the guidelines for a meeting with the President and Press and these men still didn't listen, just as they never listened over the telephone.  This all went back and forth for over thirty minutes and Sam's voice was getting really croaky, so I stepped in and revisited Sam's points and this big guy -"

Sam snorted with humour into his mug.

"All right, this  _huge_  guy tells us what they really want, which is to bless the President on television, and at that point Sam says there was no way this meeting could go any further and that that was not happening on  _or_  off tv and they all started to argue, but then Sam began coughing, and he just didn't stop for about five minutes -"

"Barely three!"

"Well, it felt like five, and he's coughing and wheezing and -"

"Wheezing?" Toby frowned at Sam, who shrugged.

"Yeah, well, Toby, you wouldn't believe it, these guys all put their hands out and start praying for him!"

"For Sam? You're kidding!"

"I'm not!" CJ began to giggle, reliving the moment, "They just - they just - did it, without even looking at one another - " she leaned back laughing, "And Sam, poor Sam, he finally stops coughing and he's gasping and they all lower their hands and start praising God! Well, Sam closes his notebook and eyes them sternly, waiting for them to finish, and then he croaks, with as much dignity as he can muster, 'I'm sorry but this is NOT going to happen.  All the same, thank you for your time. It was nice to meet you all.' Then he pushes back his chair, stands up, leans down to pick up his briefcase and topples right over! I mean it, he just disappeared as if he had fainted! Too much coughing and not enough oxygen! Crash, he hits the floor and one of the men mutters something about being slain by the Spirit or something, and they all start praising God again so I help Sam up, he was kind of dizzy, and grab our coats, and we back out through the nearest door, which turns out to be an exit onto the snow-covered back field of the whole complex, and we had to struggle into our coats and - oh God - it was so funny -" CJ couldn't stop laughing, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "I had to lean Sam up against the wall to catch his breath." She patted Sam on the arm, giggling weakly.

"Yeah," he croaked, "And while I'm freezing my butt off, she folds over laughing hysterically."

"Oh Sam, I'm sorry." She calmed herself to a low chuckle.

"So these people are a no go?"

"Absolutely." CJ stood up, "See you guys later. Get warm, Sam."

"Good." Toby evaluated his embarrassed Deputy, "You still sound bad. Want to cancel the school thing?"

"No, I'll be fine, I'll drop my car at the panel beaters, catch a cab the rest of the way." He glanced at his watch, "Need to do some reading though, now."

"OK. And sit by a heater or something."  Toby could see Sam was still cold.

*  *  *

Toby waited, leaning against the door, while Leo skimmed through the position paper. The office was quiet, lunchtime on a cold day, where everyone huddled over hot food in the Mess.  Finally Leo peered up over his glasses,

"It's good. Smooth work."

"Most of it's Sam's."

"I knew the bit about front-loaders had to be his."

"Yeah." Toby snorted.

"Where is he?"

"Left him in his office, he's not so well."

"Still that cold bothering him?"

"He's coughing all the time. Don't like the sound of it."

"He's scared us before with that. He still doing the school thing?"

"Mmm. Has to get his car fixed too."

Leo chuckled, "Only Josh -"

"Heh, yeah. Oh, and Sam and CJ wiped the Christian Congregation off the slate."

"Great!" Leo glanced at his watch, "I'll come and see him."  They headed to the Bullpen together.  Sam was reading at his desk, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, shoulders hunched.   "Sam."  Leo walked right up to the desk. Sam looked up suddenly and Leo was taken aback by his paleness.  "You all right there, Sam?"

He smiled thinly, "Just a headache - trying to cut back on coffee."

Leo heard the slight wheeze as the younger man coughed. "That position paper's good. It's good work, from you and Toby."

Sam sat up a little straighter, "Thanks, Leo."

"You sound bad."

"I have a doctor's appointment at four."

"You do?" Toby looked at him in surprise.

Sam pressed a hand across his chest, "I wasn't so well, last night.  It's just a follow-up."

"Oh. Right. Well," Leo turned slightly, "Talk to you when you get back."  He left, but Toby stayed by the desk, listening to Sam's slightly laboured breathing.  Sam slid his eyes across,

"I'm fine."

"Sounds like you're back in New Hampshire -"

"I - yeah, maybe. I have an inhaler now."

"You use it?"

"No. It makes me feel odd."

"Show me."

Sam rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket, retrieving the blue inhaler.

"Use it now."

"No." Sam blushed. They stared at one another, Sam's wheeze suddenly loud in the otherwise silent room.

"I could call Mrs Bartlet."

"God, no!"  Sam's eyes widened and he coughed. "All right, I'll try." He shook the inhaler and took the lid off, "This is embarrassing!" He inhaled a dose, holding his breath... they both waited.  He eventually exhaled and looked at Toby, who raised his eyebrows,

"That's all you do?"

"Have to wait now, see if it works." He coughed again. "It'll be fine - it worked really quickly last night."

"This happened last night?"

"Well, in the middle of the night.  Look, I need to finish this research before I go."

"I'm up the road in ten." Toby frowned awkwardly, "I - I'll see you afterwards."

*  *  *

Sam arrived at the school in the pouring rain. Sheets of seemingly solid water swept across the street like slices on a conveyor belt, obscuring anything more than ten feet away and drenching the city in a spectacular fashion.  Sam's coat was already sodden as he leapt the front steps, the cab whooshing away in a spray of street water. 

A tall man about Sam's age approached him, hand out in a welcoming fashion, "You must be Sam Seaborn."

"I am." They shook hands.

"Nice day for it.  I'm Dan Wilton, Special Schools Investigator."  He glanced back out the door, "Man, it's really pouring out there. And it was fine an hour ago."  Sam nodded, coughing. "You got a cold?"

"Yeah."

"Too bad. There's a lot of colds going round this end of the winter."  He waved a hand at their surroundings, "You know the situation here?"

"I believe I do."  Sam tried to clear his throat.  They began to walk down the corridor.  The school was empty and most classrooms were temporarily sealed off.

"The thing is, the amount of asbestos found here was relatively small, you do understand that, don't you?"

"I understand the risks from asbestos inhalation.  I also understand that there's a possibility that just one fibre of asbestos could prove to be carcinogenic."

"We didn't know though, that there was still asbestos in the walls behind the blackboards.  The roofing was done ten years ago to remove what was considered the most dangerous asbestos."

"And you were given a clearance?"

"We were! And now the committee on Joint School Buildings is trying to raise the funds for this kind of work.  Our schools will be safer in the long run."

"And where are the children at present?" Sam stopped and put a hand on the wall, coughing, tight wheezy explosions. 

Dan frowned, "D'you have your inhaler?"

Sam looked up in surprise, and Dan shrugged. "My son, Chas, has it.  Go ahead. I'll wait."

Blushing slightly, Sam used the inhaler, while Dan got back to his question about the students, "They're spread around in any of three public school nearby.  The teachers are joining in, team teaching."

Sam exhaled shakily, "So a blackboard was taken off the wall one night, revealing the asbestos lining?"

"That's pretty much it.  A teacher was going to swap the blackboard for a whiteboard, and her husband came in to assist her with the changeover.  He turned out to be a former building inspector and recognised the asbestos right away."  He looked at Sam carefully, "You okay to continue?"

Sam nodded but he was worried by the tightness of his chest, the heavy constriction that he imagined was like a suit of armour.  And the headache was back.  Sam wondered if it was lack of coffee or his cold or asthma that was creating the intense thumping above his eyebrows. 

They met up with a group in the auditorium, and Sam was introduced to School Board members, Parents' Association members and the Principal.  Sam had to apologise for his croaky voice and cough, and after the initial speeches of welcome and purpose, a tiny elderly woman from the Board took him by the arm as they prepared to see the repairs,

"You naughty boy, you should be home in bed, Mr Seaborn.  It's wet and cold and you don't sound well at all."

Sam had patted her hand and smiled, "I'll be fine."

The first two classrooms had been repaired and restored, the plaster wallboards carefully caulked, sealed and painted.  The third classroom was on their schedule to illustrate the actual work in progress.  Several workmen in navy overalls were just beginning to manoeuvre a large sheet of plasterboard into place.  Sam's group was guided across the room to watch safely from beside the windows.  Sam coughed miserably and glanced out at the driving rain, feeling only minor relief from the inhaler. He was actually looking forward to his doctor's visit, if only to get some release from the tightness in his chest.  The wind swept the rain suddenly against the window and Sam jerked slightly with surprise.  He felt a hand on his arm and there was the elderly lady again,

"I really think you should go home and get dry, Mr Seaborn."

"Sam," he croaked, smiling down at her.

"Well, Sam, then.  That cold is settling on your chest."

"I'm due at the doctor at four."

"That's a good boy!"

The combination of the classroom, the mystery tour, the kind old lady and the awful tightness made Sam feel suddenly young and helpless, and he thought perhaps he would leave soon after all.

At that moment, there was a scuffle and shout from the front of the room.  The small scaffolding at one end was collapsing and the men holding the plasterboard aloft tumbled to the ground.  The vast white board teetered and waved, sliding out of the scrabbling hands of the men at the far end, and crashed to the floor.  It shattered on impact and amidst the noise a huge cloud of dust rose from the mess, a dense, white fog that floated towards the ceiling then drifted down in slow motion like early snow, covering every inch of the room. 

Drenched in plaster dust, everyone began to cough and wipe their eyes.  Sam's dark hair and coat had turned white and as he inhaled, an awful choking sensation took hold and he just couldn't breathe.  He barked and tried again, coughing and gasping.  Backing up in panic, Sam grabbed hold of the windowsill and spun around, bending over.  Hoarse choking sounds drew the attention of the others busily dusting themselves off, and Dan Wilton was at his side, a hand on his back,

"Sam, you in trouble?"

Sam closed his eyes, stinging tears streaming down his face, his breath wheezing and whistling, and he tried to cough, feeling dizzy with fear, his brain swirling.  He straightened up, but staggered against the school investigator, clutching at his dusty jacket in panic.   Wilton looked around,

"I need some help here!" Two men hurried over.  "We have to get him away from this dust. He has asthma."  Arms around Sam's body, they half-carried him across the dust-laden debris and out into the corridor.  Sam's legs were like jelly and they lowered him down to sit on the floor.  He coughed and tried to suck in some air, gasping haltingly, dust particles flying with every movement.  Sam blinked white-covered eyelashes desperately at Wilton crouched beside him,

"Can't - breathe - " He was panicking.

"I know. I know. Stay calm. Where's your inhaler?"

"Pock- ... pock-"

"Pocket? Right one?" Wilton dug awkwardly into Sam's pocket and withdrew the inhaler.  He shook it with a practiced hand and removed the cap. "Can you do it?"

Sam took the inhaler in a shaking hand and tried to take a dose, but just as he depressed the canister, he exploded in an uncontrollable burst of coughing.  The ventolin spray drifted away over his shoulder.  Wilton tried to stay calm,

"Try again.  Cough, then press."  Sam nodded and did just that, but it was clear that it wasn't going to be enough.  "I'm not taking any risks.  I'm gonna call an ambulance."

Sam tried feebly to protest but had to give in, his head reeling as he struggled to drag in any air at all into his lungs.  Wilton pressed 911 on his cell phone and Sam's elderly friend sat down beside him, a firm hand on his heaving shoulder,

"It's all right, Sam, you're going to be just fine.  The ambulance'll be here soon. Is there someone I can call for you, to meet you at the hospital?"

He pulled out his cell-phone and pressed the speed dial, "To - by," he managed to gasp.

"Toby?"

Wilton interrupted them, "I'll wait for the ambulance."

The lady put the cell-phone delicately beside her ear, "Oh, hello, is this Toby? I'm calling on behalf of Sam Sea- what was it?"

"Seaborn?" Toby sounded perplexed.

"Yes! And you must be Toby?"

"Toby Ziegler. Who is this?"

"Ziegler, oh my. Well, Mr Ziegler, poor Sam here's been involved in a little incident, and we have to send him to hospital - the ambulance is on its way."

"Ambulance? What happened?" Toby stood up, and Leo and Jed looked up in surprise.

"There was an accident in the classroom, and we were all covered in plaster dust.  It seems to have affected Sam quite badly." Toby realised he could hear Sam coughing.

"How bad is he?"

The lady looked at Sam, who had closed his eyes, "I think you might want to meet him there."

"Which hospital?"

"Probably GW from here.  It's closest in a straight line. I'll put this phone back in Sam's pocket, all right?"

"Thanks. Can I ask who you are?"

"I'm on the Board, my name's Helen Sonntag. Oh, I can hear the ambulance now. I'll ring off."

"Thank you - for looking after Sam."

"Bye for now."

Toby slowly lowered his telephone, and gazed at the other two men.  "Sam," he managed to say.

"What's happened?"

"They're sending him to hospital - in an ambulance - there was an accident at the school."

"Sam's hurt?"

"He's not breathing properly, plaster dust or something. I could hear him-" Toby wrung his hands nervously, "I need - "

"Go!" Jed stood up, "Charlie!"

"Yes, Mr President?"

"Get a car and a driver for Toby."

"Sir - "

"Be quiet, Toby, just go."

Toby went.

*  *  *

"Sam, please relax. Please."  The registrar was trying to find a vein in Sam's arm.  Sam's eyes flickered all around the sterile cubicle, his pupils dark and dilated above the oxygen mask.  His laboured wheezing was strident in the quiet room, and the young doctor was nervous enough about having such a patient anyway.  She looked at the nurse in desperation, "Can you try?"

Sam coughed, dislodging more plaster from his hair as they swapped sides, and the doctor frowned, "We need to get rid of this irritant. I could get a brush or something-" As she turned, Sam's hand snaked out and grasped her wrist. His blue eyes were pleading. She gently disentangled his fingers and took his hand in hers,  "Sam, look just at me. I know this is awful but we need you to hold still." She laid her other hand against his chest and pressed him against the raised pillows, forcing him to settle under her hand, and she could feel his heart clamouring furiously, "Okay?"

Sam's head bobbed slightly between wheezes.  She inclined her head at the nurse, who efficiently inserted the IV line and connected the tubes.  As they taped it into place, the door opened and the registrar watched a serious-looking man in a dark overcoat slip into the room.  Sam saw him as well, and she felt his body twitch in recognition, spluttering. She smiled back at Sam, "Friend of yours?"

He nodded over the mask, "To-" he wheezed. Toby stared with concern at his Deputy lying on the ER bed, hair and face streaked with plaster dust, shirt torn open, his breath whistling horrifically under an oxygen mask.

"Sam!"

The doctor patted Sam's chest and disentangled her hand from his. "Hello, you're a friend of Sam's?  I'm Anna Starr, registrar."

"Toby Ziegler - Sam's my Deputy."

"At the White House - oh well, of course."

"How is he? What happened?"

Anna smiled back at Sam for a moment, "He's having a rather severe asthma attack - we have a consultant coming down to see him shortly."

Toby looked at Sam, startled, "Severe attack? Is he - will he- "

Anna smoothed Sam's hair off his forehead, "We've just put him on intravenous corticosteroids, that can work wonders. And oxygen, of course."  She turned back to Toby, "Can you give us some idea of what has happened? Sam hasn't been able to say much at all. We know he was admitted here not too long ago, with a chest infection."

"Yeah, this asthma thing is a result of all that. Started in New Hampshire last month. He's been fine since then but I think, well, he's had a cold this week and I think he had an attack last night?"

"An asthma attack last night?"

"I think so, he was rather vague about it."

Anna whirled on Sam, "Last night? What time?"  Sam held up three fingers. "Three in the morning?"  He nodded. 

"He was wheezing all morning too, I made him use his inhaler."

"Oh, goodness."  Just then the consultant bustled in, and recognised the Director of Communications right away. 

"Toby! What's been going on?" They shook hands. Toby pointed to the bed.  "Is that Sam? What the hell've you been doing, Sam, wrestling with a bag of flour?"  Sam closed his eyes, suddenly too tired to talk. 

Anna stepped in, "You already know Sam?"

"He was here not so long ago."

"He's having a severe asthma attack, looks like second wave stuff, exacerbated by the plaster dust."  Tim pulled out his stethoscope and bent over, listening to Sam carefully. Then he tapped Sam's collarbone,

"You awake in there?"  Sam opened his eyes again.  "Sam, guess what! You're going to have a little stay with me and my team upstairs."  He turned to Toby, "Can you tell me what happened?"

Toby recounted Sam's shaky state of health before the school visit, then explained the plaster incident as best he could.  He shifted uncomfortably, "How serious is this? I have to report back directly to the President."

Tim laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, "It's serious, but Sam's here now and that's the best thing. I'll admit he sounds pretty bad at the moment but once that IV kicks in and he's stabilised, we'll move upstairs."

"Why is he wheezing so badly?"

"Well, the lining of his airways is inflamed, probably because of his cold initially, and the muscles around the airways have tightened up, probably severely so with the surprise topping of plaster dust this afternoon - that would've pushed him over the edge.  There's fluid in his airways, too, so that all reduces the airflow, hence that scary wheezing sound." They all looked at Sam, listening to the wheeze, and he raised his hands in mock helplessness.

Anna caught one of his hands, "He's still not getting enough oxygen. I might put him on a monitor."

"Good idea."  Tim shook Toby's hand, "Good to see you again.  Sam, I'll see you upstairs in a wee while."

Anna and the nurse left too.  Toby cleared his throat and edged closer to the bed.  Sam watched him with mournful eyes and lifted an apologetic hand.  Toby took off his coat, dragged a chair over and sat down next to the bed.  He just sat there for a few moments, watching Sam, then he began to talk,

"I met with Rowe and O'Reilly." Sam raised a questioning eyebrow.  "They've set up a Border and Transportation committee which has unified the agencies responsible for the border security, so we'll have an easier job co-ordinating all of that for our next outing..."  Toby chatted on for about five minutes, sensing Sam needed the distraction, watching Sam's eyelids grow heavy as the cough and wheeze took its toll on his system.  The nurse came back in with a bowl of warm water,

"Aw, he must be worn out, all that struggling for breath.  I'm just going to clean him up a little before we send him upstairs."  She gently washed Sam's forehead, his eyes flickering open tiredly, and she smiled warmly at him, "Hey there, Sleepy, I'm just getting rid of some of this dust.  At least you're more relaxed now."  She washed the rest of his face, lifting the mask to clean around his mouth and nose.

Toby watched her deftly wash Sam's whitened hands, "How was he, when he came in?"

"Panicky, petrified.  Must've been a scary ride in the ambulance."

Sam was still wheezing loudly. "He's not used to this."

"It's pretty nasty too, poor guy.  Lots of people have asthma all their lives and never have an attack like this." 

Toby realised Sam had won another heart and rolled his eyes. "I need to report in. Can I use a cell phone here?"

"You can in the waiting area."

Toby patted Sam's arm, "I have to call the President. Want me to get hold of Josh?"

Sam blinked tiredly and nodded, but then snagged Toby's coat, "Wait - don't tell - Josh 'til after - after flight." Toby nodded and slipped out.

The nurse wiped more of the dust off Sam's hair, "He's really going to phone the President - I mean, President Bartlet?"  Sam nodded.  "So, you've, you know, been in the Oval Office and everything?"  Sam nodded again.  "What d'you do?"  Sam made a writing motion. "You write? For the President?  Wow, you're very important then!"  Sam shrugged, his eyes still heavy and the nurse smoothed down his damp hair, feeling a special affection for this gorgeous, shy, scared man, still struggling so hard to breathe. 

*  *  *

-Josh Lyman.

-It's Toby. Where are you?

-On my way to the airport.

-What's your ETA?

-About seven-thirty.

-I'll meet you at the airport.

-Why? What's happened?

-I'll just meet you.

*  *  *

-Leo?

-Hold on, Toby, I’ll get him. All right, we're on speaker.

-Toby! How's Sam?

-Hello, Mr President. He's - he's - he had a severe asthma attack. He was already sick with a cold and with the accident at the school - he really couldn't breathe at all.

-Is he better now?

-It's not over yet. He's still wheezing like a steam train and he's getting tired. They're admitting him. I'll come in when he's stable.

-What's happening with Josh?

-I'll meet him at the airport, Leo. Sam thinks he's better not knowing until after the flight.

-Yeah.

-Toby?

-Yessir?

-Pass on to Sam our very best wishes for a speedy recovery.

-Yes, sir.

*  *  *

Sam was alone when Toby slipped back into the room, and he had a hand pressed against his forehead.

"Headache?"

Sam nodded. The wheezing was still loud in the cubicle and Sam started to cough, leaning forward, one hand grasping the blanket they'd thrown over his legs in a deathly grip.  Sam fumbled with the oxygen mask as the coughing continued, dragging it off his face, tight wheezy coughs squeaking pathetically, racking Sam's body.  Toby closed in on Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. With the other hand he retrieved the mask,

"C'mon, Sam, you need this." Toby could feel Sam's whole body shaking as he held the mask back up over his young friend's mouth and nose.  Sam coughed, trying to resist, panicking. Anna bustled back in at that moment,

 "Oh, what happened?"

"He started to cough and kind of freaked." 

Anna took in Sam's paleness and nodded, "Sam! You need the oxygen until your lungs recover." She took the mask from Toby and resettled it into place on Sam. As Sam relaxed a little, and the cough stuttered to a stop, Toby caught Anna's eye,

"When will he go up to the ward?"

"Soon." Sam closed his eyes.  He could feel Toby's arm around his shoulder and in the midst of his panic he felt safer because of that contact. He leaned in against Toby, scared and shattered.  Toby rolled his eyes at Anna, who smiled,

"You two must have a good working relationship." She unslung her stethoscope and listened to Sam's chest, frowning, "Might increase that IV a little. He's building up more fluid than I'd like." 

Toby felt Sam relax, melting into his arm.  _A good working relationship_. He reflected back a few days, to what Josh called the 'blood on the desk' incident...

"Sam! SAM!"

A rumpled Sam had appeared in the doorway, "What?"

"This isn't working." Toby rustled the pages of Sam's draft.

"I know." Sam took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face. "I tried -"

"TRIED? YOU TRIED!?!? Oh, sorry, Mr President, we couldn't secure a meeting with Homeland Security because Sam tried but he just couldn't do it."

"Hey! It's just a draft."

"Oh, fine then!" And with a suddenness that made Sam jump, he balled all five pages and tossed them into the bin.  "Do a new one."

Sam had stared, mouth open, then he had paled with a quiet rage and spun around, walking *smack* into the doorway.  He had bounced backwards, hand against his face, and staggered slightly, then without even a glance in Toby's direction, had huffed back into his own office.  He'd sat down before realising he should've headed directly to the bathroom, because as he leaned forward, a large drop of blood plunked onto the desk. Horrified, Sam put a hand to his face - his nose was bleeding.  _Not again_. He groaned as more drops splattered down onto the shiny wood and he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief.   _Please, please don't let anyone come in_. Sam pressed the handkerchief against his nose and squeezed gently. He heard Leo in the Bullpen and hastily wiped the blood off the desk, turning his head away from the door as he did so.  Fortunately he was passing through and Sam was able to continue staunching the flow from his sore nose in peace.  _And it was sore_. He couldn't believe this had happened just now. He focused his rage on the draft - it was so difficult to word something to Homeland Security - requesting and demanding at the same time a review of border and transportation security. Seething, he began to write with one hand, the other holding the handkerchief against his nose. His head was starting to protest the whack he had given it, and he stopped writing long enough to down a couple of Advil. He was beginning to enjoy the new flow of words and when Toby appeared in the doorway with two coffees. Sam was able to look up and grin slightly,  _I'm getting it this time_. Toby had brought the coffees over to the desk and had pulled up a chair beside Sam. He read what Sam had written so far and nodded approvingly. Then he had taken Sam by the chin and turned his head to face him, looking at Sam's nose. How sore is that?  Sam had blushed mightily.   _Sore_.  It's all right. It was just a bump. Toby had eased the lids off their coffees and they sipped companionably. Then Toby had sighed, you're such a klutz. How many doors have you run into? A wounded look, it was the door _way_...

*  *  *

"Where are we going?"

"GW."

"Oh, God. What happened to Sam?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Anyone else, you would've told me before the flight."

Toby described what had happened, the plasterboard falling, the ambulance.

Josh ran a hand over his own face wearily, "He's been sick all week, we should've seen something - that's why I've been so tired, because he hasn't been sleeping.  The whole coffee thing hasn't helped. How was he affected?"

Toby glanced sideways, "He had a severe asthma attack, Josh."

There was a little silence.

"Severe?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God. How is he?"

"I left him up on the ward a couple of hours ago."

"They  _admitted_  him? Why?"

"You'll understand when you see him."  They drove on in silence for a while. When Josh spoke again, he suddenly sounded very young,

"Is - he - he is all right, isn't he? I mean, God, Toby, if anything happened to him-"

"We're nearly there."

*  *  *

Toby found himself shepherding Josh along the corridors with a gentle hand on his back. He frowned, how did he ever feel compassion for Josh? He mentally shook himself and figured it had to be their mutual concern for Sam.

The ward receptionist greeted Toby, and remembered Josh from Sam's last stay.

"How is he?"

"Poor boy's having a rough time. You go on down, he'll be glad to see you."

Sam's room was directly opposite the Nurses' Station and Josh hesitated at the door, Toby shoving him softly forward.

Josh grasped Sam's hand and their eyes locked, blue and light brown. Sam gasped beneath the oxygen mask then he exhaled, a painful congested wheeze that shocked Josh, who paled instantly, staggering against the bed, and Sam blinked desperately as he drew in another laboured breath. Josh sat on the bed, drawing Sam towards him in a careful embrace and, mindful of the bulky mask, Sam leaned his ear against Josh's shoulder, shuddering with the pent up misery of the whole day. 

Toby pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed and sat down.  Josh held Sam for a few minutes, feeling the struggle of each breath, in and out. He glanced over Sam's head at Toby with alarm,  "It's been like this?"  Toby shrugged and nodded.  "Why can't they fix it?" 

"They're doing their best, Josh." Toby's mouth twitched, "And I think someone's falling asleep on you."  Sam's eyes were already closed, and Josh felt him become heavy against his shoulder.  "He must be relieved to have you back. It's been a hell of an afternoon."

*

A nurse came in after Toby returned to work.

"Is he asleep?"

"Yeah. For now."

"You must be hot in that coat, want me to help you lean him back?"

"I don't want to wake him."  Careful to avoid the various lines and tubes, they eased a still-wheezing Sam back against the pillows.  "When will it stop?"  Josh stretched and took off his coat and jacket, rolling up his sleeves.

"The wheezing?"

"Yeah, it sounds terrible."

"It's actually improving, believe it or not."

*  *  *

Josh couldn't leave.

Toby came back, and stayed while Josh negotiated at length with Leo. Then they talked across the bed, Sam propped up on pillows between them, shifting occasionally in his struggle to find relief.  He drifted, sometimes awake, following their discussion to and fro with his eyes, sometimes panicking after a chesty cough produced thick fluid that blocked his airways, sometimes dozing. 

And the wheeze. Just before midnight, Tim Woods called in and found Josh fast asleep, leaning against the bed on folded arms. Sam was awake. Tim rattled his stethoscope and Sam obediently opened his hospital-issue pyjama jacket.  After a minute the doctor sat down on the other side of the bed,

"You're still struggling, Sam."  Sam nodded, eyes sad.  "When did Josh get here?"

"After eight."

"I'm going to add some other drugs, to combat the fluid and mucus in your lungs. You tired?"   Sam shrugged and nodded.  "You'll sleep when this is over, believe me."

**I don't care when either of you last slept...**

"Sounds familiar."

*

"I want you to add this to Sam Seaborn's IV."

"How come you're here?"

"On my way home from a movie-"

"This guy must be a special friend."

"Suze, he works for the President, he's special to everyone! But yeah, they're a great pair..."

"Pair - oh, you mean - "

"Absolutely confidential, Suze. And get Josh one of those armchairs from the waiting room."

"We don't -"

"He's the Deputy Chief of Staff. He'll have to get up in the morning and actually run the country. Get him a chair."

*  *  *

Josh left for the West Wing at six, and he was reluctant to go. After a night of fighting for breath, Sam was still wheezing and was now totally shattered. As Josh finally made his way down the corridor, Sam leaned back into the pillows and covered his eyes, tears of fear and exhaustion sliding down his cheeks.  The small nurse making her first rounds of the day watched him from the door for a moment before slipping quietly into the room and standing at the side of his bed.  He sensed someone was there and tried to stop but couldn't. She waited, and laid one comforting hand on his leg through the blanket, listening to the protesting whistles of his lungs.

"It's all right to be scared, you know. This is scary... I have a tissue here." She held out a wad of tissues and Sam swiped at his eyes,

"I'm sorry. I'm - I'm sorry."  He sniffed, and gave her a small smile.

"Can I get you something? I don't think you've had anything to eat since you came in."

"I'm not hungry... but I'd love a coffee!"

*  *  *

When Josh arrived that evening, Sam had improved enough to remove the IV, although the nasal cannula remained in place, and he still sounded wheezy.  Josh sat close beside him on the bed,

"If you get out of here tomorrow..."

"Yeah -"

"The day after - you know, it's the DC meeting for the lawyers' vote -"

"Oh my God, I'm PRESENTING that! Oh Josh, Quick, I have to get out of h- " Sam sat forward, gasping, which turned into an awful coughing fit, his breath wheezing in between gasps, "Got - get to that - Josh!"

Josh patted him helplessly on the back,  "Sam, you gotta calm down! Slow down!"

"Okay." Sam leaned back after a minute. "Sorry."  He drew in a ragged, whistly breath.  "Josh, this is really important." He coughed again and Josh passed him some water.  Sam leaned back against the pillows, his head swimming with thoughts about the votes they needed.

Josh wandered over to the window and peered out into the dusky gloom. Vehicles were manoeuvring in and out of the car park below, like Matchbox toys, one back, another into its place, and he watched, fascinated, as his birds' eye view showed him how close they were to one another. He spun around - "You should sit by the window!"

"I can't even get out of bed."

"Yeah, you can, c'mon, this is interesting!" Josh's enthusiasm was infectious, and Sam disentangled the oxygen line and carefully clambered off the hospital bed. He padded over to Josh, who slid him in front, wrapping his arms around Sam's middle, his favourite position. Sam leaned into Josh and they watched the cars, while enjoying the closeness.

-Look at that - who'd drive a convertible at this time of night?

-Look at that one - no idea how to park.

-That one, too, see the big pick-up?

-He'll never fit in that space.

-Even the SUVs look cramped.

-Omigosh, look over there, he's gonna hit-

-oh no, back up, BACK UP!

-Back UP!

-aaargh! They both closed their eyes for a moment! Sam coughed, and Josh could feel at close range the struggle,

"Better get you back into bed."

"No, I like it here."  Sam held tightly to Josh's hands, wrapped around his stomach. They watched the darkness close over the city scene below through their own shadowy images reflected in the glass.  The sky darkened to the deepest blue imaginable, a hint of lemon on the horizon the last breath of the day.  Street lights twinkled and warmed the roads, and Josh held Sam close as the night enclasped the city. Sam sighed with pleasure, a wheezy sigh but a happy one, and Josh realised how much he missed having Sam close. How he could distance himself from others in his striving for political power, his wheelings and dealings, but Sam forced him to open that window into his own humanness, to be close to another person, and to care. Sam made Josh care. He leaned his forehead against Sam's shoulder,

"Me, too," he whispered.

*  *  *

 

The atmosphere in the Law Society Conference Room was tense but fatalistic.  There was a final break before voting began and Toby asked Sam to take a walk outside.

"Why?"

"You're too pale."

Sam stared at him owlishly, "Too pale?"

"Shut up and put your coat on."

They walked up to the corner, the sky a flat metallic grey, sitting above the high-rise buildings like a sheet of steel, and paused there while Sam caught his breath.

"So - frustrating."

"It's your first day. Have a little patience."

Sam snorted, "I never had that - YOU don't even have that."

"You look tired though. I'm dropping you straight home after the vote."

"It's only two!"

"Don't whine." Toby lit a cigar. "I suppose you won't be able to do this anymore." He waggled the cigar at Sam.

"Gosh, I never thought of that. Poker games won't be the same."   He ran his hand along the smooth blocks of the old government building beside them, feeling the sharp stone  edges and the furrows of mortar. "Wonder if there's anything else I have to avoid."

"Good excuse to never get a cat. Let's go back."

They strolled back, and stopped again beside one of the huge columns that dominated the frontpiece.  Sam leaned against the nearest column, a little dizzy, Toby hovering close beside him. A couple of men stepped into hearing range, and the smell of cigarettes drifted by.  They were discussing the vote.

"I think you guys're going down like we did."

"Damned Seaborn - he's so persuasive when he gets warmed up." Sam glanced at Toby, who shook his head.

"Should've seen him in Maine. Shit, we  _had_  it and he turned it around-" he snapped his fingers, "just like that!"

"Shame we can't bring him down."

"I got him - after."  Toby's hand clamped down on Sam's forearm.

"Whaddya mean?"

"In the Men's - gave him a good 'one two', left him on the floor in the corner. The puny little wimp never saw me coming."  As he demonstrated his actions, the man who had assaulted Sam back in Augusta danced into view and Sam saw red. He shook off Toby's hand and stormed up to the bulkier lawyer,

"You bastard! I had my back to you!" He shoved the man backwards, and he staggered slightly, surprised but recovering quickly,

"Piss off, government whipping boy!" and even as Toby was stepping forward, the bigger man's fist shot out and connected with Sam's jaw, snapping his mouth shut and knocking his head back.  Sam staggered backwards into Toby, his legs collapsing.  Toby grabbed a handful of Sam's coat, keeping him upright, and roared at the other man,

"Who the HELL'RE YOU? You've just assaulted a member of the President's Senior Staff, and it sounds like it wasn't the first time. Give me your name,  _asshole_."  He staggered slightly as Sam seemed to collapse and the other lawyer present caught Sam up under the arms and took his weight from Toby, lowering him to the steps, holding him close.

Toby advanced and the man turned and thundered up the steps, disappearing into the building.  Toby crouched down beside Sam and looked at the lawyer holding him,

"Toby Ziegler."

"Bill Mitchell." He inclined his head towards the building, " _That_  was Ian Avery." Then he looked down at Sam, "Is he unconscious?"  Toby patted Sam's cheek and he lifted his head groggily,

"Hey." His voice shook.

Toby smiled, "That's my trooper. You okay there, Sam?"

Sam nodded, wincing slightly, "I don't feel so good."

"C'mon, let's get you up." Sam coughed and Mitchell frowned at the man in his grasp,

"He sounds ill."

"He  _is_.  He just got out of hospital yesterday."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, well, your friend there's in a stinking heap of that - whoa, c'mon, Sam, find your feet." They both put an arm around Sam and helped him back into the building.  Toby stopped at the Men's Room, "I need to straighten him up - can you tell the Secretary to give us a couple of minutes?"  and he bundled Sam into the bathroom.  Sam staggered into a stall and promptly threw up.  _No surprise there_ , thought Toby.  He dampened some paper towels and dabbed at Sam's face - a dark swelling was developing along his jawline, in sharp contrast to his starkly pale features.  "Sam, you okay to go back in there, for the vote?"

"Yeah." He stood up, "I'm all right."

Snorting, Toby pushed him towards the basin. "Get cleaned up then." He pulled out his cell and spoke quietly to Leo.  Sam had a wash, then focused on the small mirror and shuddered,

"God, I look awful."

"Maybe it'll win us a couple of extra votes.  Let's go."

"What if that guy's out there?"

"Leo'll fix it."

They re-entered the conference room and sat down at the head table.  Everyone seemed to take that cue to seat themselves.  Mitchell must have been talking - there were many stares directed at Sam.  He could feel his heart hammering, and, much to his dismay, his chest tightening, constricting.

The Secretary introduced Sam for the summary speech, and he stood up shakily to take the Speaker's stand.  He couldn't see the man who had hurt him.

"As much as I cannot introduce new evidence into the summary, I can illustrate the depth of feeling dividing us over this issue," he coughed for a moment, "excuse me. The bruise you'll notice developing along my jaw line right now-" there was a sudden intensity in the silence, "this'll please my colleagues in the Senior Staff tomorrow because I'll probably be unable to talk," he glanced pointedly at Toby and everyone laughed, "but today, today they'll be angry. Not only because I'm the youngest and someone's just beaten up on their little brother," there was another murmur of warm laughter, and Sam coughed, a horrible chesty cough, and had to take a sip of water, "their sick little brother," he added dryly, and everyone laughed again, "not only for that but because this is a democratic process begun by  _your_  calls for change nearly a year ago..."

*  *  *

Sam stared listlessly out the window as the car stuttered through a mid-afternoon traffic jam. Toby glanced sideways,

"You're going home as soon as you've seen Leo."

"He really nabbed that guy?"

"You won't see him around here again. They had a little chat. Leo didn't think charges'd do us any good but he dangled the guy like shark bait."  Toby honked the horn in irritation.  "Where do all these people come from?"

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and stared out the window.  There was such a fascinating contrast in DC, classic architecture laboriously preserved beside modern buildings, some so creative that they too would become classic one day - like their work, he mused, trying to preserve tradition and values and history, while creating new ideas, new laws, new practices... he let his eyes close as the thoughts tumbled around in his head...

"- just drifted away in the car. Walked in with me but as soon as I took his coat, he just lay down on the couch."

Sam saw a flash of light that stabbed at his brain and he winced painfully.

"...barely out of hospital, Toby."

"This was really important, to him and to us." Another flash, in the other eye. "I was going to take him straight home afterwards, before someone decided to hit him." 

Sam felt a light finger touch his sore jaw.  "He sounds wheezy again. Toby, you have to give him a couple of days to rest. I insist. Surely he can stay in bed over the weekend."

"He got us the vote. A weekend off is the least we can do right now."

"When does Josh get out of his meeting?"

"Probably half an hour or less."

"Well, go get some coffee, Toby, we'll wake Sam up and get him ready to go."

Sam felt a finger tapping his cheekbone.  _Why do people do that to me?_ He lifted heavy eyelids and blinked at Abby Bartlet.

"Hey, kiddo, time to wake up so we can get you home to bed in one piece."

"Couldn't I just sleep here-" he coughed and Abby helped him sit up a little.

"No way! Toby's gone for some coffee. That's a good bruise along your jaw line - I think your whole face's going to puff up on that side by morning."

"When did I fall asleep? Or for that matter, where?" Sam frowned.

"I'm not sure if you were asleep or comatose! About four hours ago, and Leo asked me to take a look in case there was a problem. D'you have your inhaler with you?"

"Leo?" Sam started in shock. "Leo saw me here, asleep?"

"It's all right, Sam. He could see you weren't well. For goodness sake, you just got out of hospital. Inhaler."

"I feel so stupid."

"Not according to Toby - he said your closing remarks were amazing. Inhaler, NOW!"

Sam dug in his pocket, wriggling a little on the couch. He produced the inhaler, and Abby caught his arm, easing him into a sitting position.

 

By the time Toby returned with coffee, Sam was more comfortable and a little more alert. As they sipped their coffee, Abby patted him on the knee, "Expect to sleep a good deal this weekend, kiddo. No activity, nothing more strenuous than a walk to the sofa. You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm talking to Josh too."  Sam blushed and stared into his coffee.

*  *  *

Josh woke at seven, feeling wonderfully refreshed. Leo had said he could come in later, after Sam was up, and Josh grinned, keeping absolutely still. There was no way he was waking Sam. He could tell Sam was close, could feel the warmth emanating from his body, could hear the slightly laboured breathing rasping in and out - Sam definitely wasn't properly well yet. Josh turned his head slowly and savoured a close up view of Sam in the early morning light.  His hand was tucked up under his sore jaw protectively, and he was still pale, his lashes vibrant above his cheeks.  Josh gazed at Sam's perfect mouth, and longed to run his hand over the dark stubble on his cheeks.  Sam coughed gently, his face grimacing even in his sleep, and Josh had to fight the urge to take him in his arms and devour him. He closed his eyes but when he opened them, there was still a devastatingly delicious sight in front of him.  Smiling ruefully, Josh slid out of bed and headed for the shower.

 

Sam woke up slowly, stretching the full length of the bed, feeling his toes and fingers extend to the rolled edges of the mattress.  He could tell it was light outside although the blinds were closed.  Tiny streaks of yellow coated the walls. A sunny day.  He ran an exploratory finger along his cheek - it felt puffy and tender, and he could only guess at the colour. He squinted at his watch - nearly nine. He had slept for hours.  He inhaled gently, and was pleased to find that he could inhale, but the exhalation brought with it an awful explosion of coughing, and Josh rushing in with a glass of water.  He found Sam sitting up, head between his knees, his shoulders heaving uncontrollably, hacking chestily.

"Poor Sam." Josh sat beside him, holding the glass, and rubbed a comforting hand up and down his partner's back. Finally Sam lifted his head and he leaned against Josh, panting. "Here, have some water."  Sam sipped carefully. "You had a long sleep. D'you feel kind of better?"  Sam nodded and handed the glass back. He put his arms around Josh and hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I got a sleep-in too. And as far as Leo's concerned, you're still asleep!"

He put the glass down and leaned into Sam, forcing him back against the pillows. "You're one sexy guy when you're asleep, you know that?"

Sam pouted, "Only when I'm asleep?"

"No, but Abby was very firm about what you can do this weekend!" He rolled over the top of Sam and lay next to him, holding up a hand and counting off on his fingers,  "One, you are to sleep as much as possible; Two, you are to eat well and drink plenty of fluids and take all your medication; Three, you are to do NO work, hear me, Toby? And Four, have absolute rest, no, and I mean NO, Josh, physical activity!" 

Sam sat up and stared open-mouthed, his face reddening,  "She said  _that_  to you and Toby? Oh God! She actually said, no physical activity?? In a leery sort of way?" 

Josh grinned. "Lie still then."  He gently pressed Sam back into the pillows, and lifted his t-shirt. He ran a hand across Sam's chest, back and forth, up to the shoulders and down, enjoying Sam's smooth skin. He journeyed down, running a firm hand across Sam's stomach, and felt Sam writhe with pleasure. His hand slid up and down from ribs to navel, then across from hip to hip. Sam wriggled with delight. "I said, lie still."

"I can't help it." He coughed, Josh's hand jumping on his belly. "It's too good."

"Lie still or I'm telling Leo you're awake."  Sam lay still.

*  *  *

"I'm gonna head into work soon. What d'you want to eat?"

 Sam was scrunched up into the corner of the couch, reading. He peered over his glasses, "Huh?"

"Eat. Food. Sam, you have to eat.  I got some food in. You want a sandwich?"

"Sure. Uh, Josh -"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have a coffee?"


End file.
